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Wednesday, January 25, 2012

'The Place'

I
find that people do not understand me.They call me a city gal, they think I’m tough.I was born in a city, but I grew up in a
‘place.’

It
had tall buildings, and broad streets, and an ice skating rink, and a large
hill with a winding river running below.In winter the hill became a long, steep slide and we would whee! all the way down with bottoms
glued to pieces of cardboard.In summer
the hill was covered in the sunburst of dandelions that made me – a kid with
allergies – both happy and miserable.

The
place had an archway, and a sharp turn to the right, that led to a door.And behind that door it kept voices and
memories, scents and sounds, touches and tastes, and reality laced with dreams...And that’s where it keeps me now, while a ghost of me wanders
elsewhere.